The Rising Tide
by Tamika DanarDraco
Summary: Every since I was ten years old I’ve had to scrape together enough money for my brother to survive, I couldn’t care less about myself… no that’s not true, I’d just never admit to being weak… for in my weakness is the way to hurt me, and I’ve been hurt too


Disclaimer: I don't own it, never have done, never will… shame.

Warnings: Shonen ai, Yaoi, abuse, rape, swearing… the usual.

Summary: Every since I was13 years old I've had to scrape together enough money for my brother to survive, I couldn't care less about myself… no that's not true, I'd just never admit to being weak… for in my weakness is the way to hurt me, and I've been hurt too many times…

A/N: My friend, Gemma just had an operation, so everyone say Hi! I was gonna write loads of one-shots but I didn't have any ideas, so TADA!

This story is set in 2004, ok? Anything else you should know? Umm… It's from Yamato's POV and oh! The ages,

Yamato, Taichi, Sora: 16

Takeru, Hikari: 12

Prologue:

The beginning of the end

I was 6 years old when my mother died, my brother was 2. She died of lung cancer, caused by smoke inhalation, but she didn't smoke, my father did. He never cared about us, my mother did everything she could to shield me from his abuse, but she wasn't there forever. I remember the dark nights when I would hold my brother close to me and listen to them screaming at each other, then would come the deadly silence and the sudden crash as he threw her into the wall.

I knew she was going to die, even before she told me, I could see it in her eyes. A wild, empty almost reckless look… in those last few months she did everything she could to get us out of there, but to no avail. She died, 13 January 1994, exactly a month before my birthday. Yes, I'm the unlucky child born on a Friday 13, and 'unlucky' seems to be the only way to describe what I am… apart from cursed, that comes close too.

I'll never forget the sadist grin that spread across my father's face nor the despairing wail that escaped my brother's lips, nor the fact I was silent and said nothing and shed no tears. I said nothing and I didn't cry that night when my father threw me against the wall or when he beat me until I blacked out. I didn't cry when my brother sobbed hysterically and screamed at my father to stop hitting me. And I said nothing as my father threatened my brother with the same punishment if I ever tried to leave. When my father locked my brother and me in our shared room and when he left us alone in the house that night, I still didn't cry. I felt terrible, like I'd somehow betrayed my mother because I didn't shed a single tear for her.

After that it got worse, my father chased away the few friends I had and terrorised anyone new who tried to get close to me. But then again I didn't want to get close to anyone either, I wanted to stay away from other people, they might see the bruises and take me away from my brother. I did everything I could to shield my brother from what was happening to me, but sometimes he would creep downstairs after one of our fights and cry into my shoulder and ask me again and again why I didn't run away. I never said anything.

As the years dragged by the abuse steadily became worse and worse until the eve of my tenth birthday, when my father crossed all boundaries. He broke down the door to mine and my brother's joint room, dragged me downstairs by my hair and raped me. He ripped off my clothes, tied my hands together, stripped off his suite and fucked me. On the cold, ash covered floor.

I remember my brother hugging me afterwards, him comforting me, the tables turned, asking me what had 'Daddy' done to me; he had still been locked in our room and hadn't seen what had happened to me. But I didn't pay any attention, for the first time in 4 years I cried. I never told him what had been done to me and as far as I know 6 years on he still doesn't know.

My father died on my 13 birthday, I took that as the best birthday present anyone has ever given me. I knew I wouldn't be able to support my brother on the few coins my father hadn't spent on drink or women. I took all the money I could find, grabbed my brother, a few spare blankets and ran as far away as we could. We ended up on the streets, after all we had no friends we could turn to, and all our surviving relatives lived in France.

I did odd jobs, cleaning and such to earn enough money to keep both of us alive. If I had been alone I would have let myself stave, but my brother needed me to keep him alive, so I ate food just to keep myself going, but never more and often less. I became thin; I lost whatever part of me that cared about myself, so in other words I was just an empty shell. The only part of me that kept going was the bit that cared about my brother. I knew I would have to get a proper job to keep both of us alive, but I didn't know what.

Don't ask me why, because I don't truly know. Don't ask me how, because I don't know that either. All I know was that I could make enough money out of it to keep myself alive long enough to keep my brother alive.

I sold my body for sex.

I never told him what I was doing, gods… he would hate me, I could give him all the reasons in the world and still he would hate me, even though I did it for him. So now you know what you're dealing with. Filth. Scum. Whatever word you use they all mean the same. I'm a common whore, selling my body to the highest bidder. sometimes kids my age come down from the big boarding school, they pay me good money so I let them do it… but they often go to far, and I reach out for the knife after they've gone and I mark my arm deeply to show many times I've been pushed to far.

Tonight I have a client, he's coming at half past nine to fuck me. I scared shitless, terrified that I've get hurt, even though I tell myself over and over again that I shouldn't have feelings anymore. I'm frightened of what he'll ask me to do, what he'll do to me. I'm afraid that my brother will walk in and see what I'm about to do… I go through this every time. I can't take the waiting, that scares me most of all, the not knowing what's gonna happen to me.

That's him knocking on the door. Here goes my newest trip to hell and back… no wait I'm already in hell.

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A/N: Well? I don't know if this is any good, so feedback would be very welcome. This is also the first time I have ever written something in Yama's POV, so be kind please. And if you are reading this review otherwise I might not continue. Everyone say Hi! To Gemma, who's had her operation today! 


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